


23 Mistakes

by Winter_Snowing



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boyfriends, For the older sibling, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, I nickname them Tan-tan, M/M, Male reader plays soccer in this, Male reader with a predetermined past, Reader has an older sibling in this, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, along with readers past, male reader - Freeform, mild swearing, reader tries REALLY hard to be a pacifist, story rating is mostly for narrative swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 23:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12758622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_Snowing/pseuds/Winter_Snowing
Summary: You never considered yourself lucky. You tumbled from one mistake in your life to another. Now, finally starting high school in a new area, living only with your older sibling, you're met with something you never thought you'd face... A life.Don't get yourself wrong, you had a cozy little life with your single family member, but you had nothing more than that. And that had never bothered you before. Not until now. Now it seemed like every mistake you made was amplified ten fold.Male!Reader x Nishinoya Yuu_Updates on Saturdays_





	1. Past mistakes

 

        It was probably the blood, you thought. It was definitely the cause of the mass  hysteria around you and inside of your head.

        It was too loud.

        Strings of students stood around you, yelling for more blood shed, all leaning in with some kind of morbid fascination at the crumpled form in front of you and the splatters of red. Cheering was going on, even though you felt absolutely no elation at your “win”. Your head was no quieter than the echoing voices in the junior high hallways.

        You berated yourself. Dragged yourself. How could you have done this after all the promises you made to the people you cared about: about no longer fighting? You had copious amounts of strength and you had declared that you would keep your record clean the couple of months before high schools began sending out letters. Hell, this entire last year you did your best to ignore the goading students around you, the exact ones who were now here chanting your name, so they couldn’t get on your nerves. Ignored their name callings in the hall and the obvious attempts to get your fists aimed their way.

        Yet you broke your promises.

        But how could you not have? Though you berated yourself for letting the, now still, student below you finally make you snap- you couldn’t see any other outcome. They deserved the punches and the pain. After what they said about you and the single student who ever called you their friend - saw past your record and glare- they had already condemned themselves to their punishment.

        You had just fulfilled it.

        The teachers scurried in, the lonesome things looking spindly and terrified at the grotesque cheering over the pale body of a child. Immediately their eyes found you, your name still spilling from the cawing of the public.

        When moving the boy, who was just about your age, at least the same year for all you knew, he groaned something pitiful. The old women coo’d over him, worry etched in their already scribbled features. One of them stormed over to you - but this was an old man and you knew him well as the principal.

        The principal of your junior high had taken interest in your family. Specifically you, the “troubled” child. Had pushed and prodded you to talk to him. He wanted to give you a voice, instead of only reading the many letters from your prior schools saying how “bad” you were. He pushed you into joining a club. Got you into soccer (football) and even came to support you at many of your games. He had given you a chance and you had taken it. He said he’d write any letter of recommendation to any high school you wanted if you just went the rest of the year not fighting.

        You had really done it this time.

        It was the worst fight you had ever gotten into.

        You could see the deep engraved disappointment in his features when he towered over you. He didn’t say a single word, you weren’t sure if he could muster any out of his tight frown anyway. All he did was turn and walk off. Knowingly, you followed.

        It was chokingly quiet on the way to his office. Kids stared. At you and the pissed principal, but mostly your bruised and bleeding knuckles. They dripped. From your own broken skin or from the kid’s, you never were quite sure.

        The office was somehow even quieter. It clashed too much with your noisy jumbled thoughts and you almost wished you were back in the midst of the prying eyes of the shouting students.

        For, what it felt like, hours you both sat in silence. It was only interrupted by the quiet tick of a clock and the single distant bell to remind students it was time to head back home, if they had not already run out in their excitement.

        He began moving then, when he heard that quiet bell, pulling papers and envelopes from his desk. It was something he had prepared a long time ago but had yet to ever find any need to hand them to you. Your head was hung, ready for him to talk. Say anything. The silence was killing you inside. You realized, maybe too late, that the reason was because you honestly saw your principal as more of a parental figure than your real ones.

        With the manila folder in hand he gestured for you to leave, still not a single word leaving his white lips. His eyes avoided your own, had since he first locked eyes with you while in the the fighting circle.

        You got up and left, your sibling picking you up with a heavy grimace on their face. As soon as they saw the pain in your eyes and the unshed tears of little junior high you, they took you right home - their home - to take care of you. They didn’t open the folder until the next day, which you stayed home from, unable to handle having to face any of your peers.

        That’s when you found out you had been expelled and would not be able to return.

        But that was two years ago. Or a year and a couple months. You didn’t really care. You tried not to think about it too much, since you had easily moved on from that shitty mistake- one of your worst ones, yet probably not your last one.

        Now you were only worrying about packing up your gear and cleaning up after a team who had run out to catch busses and rides before it was too late. You, the lucky few with an older sibling who had a car, took your sweet time. Your sibling never minded you staying just a bit later to clean up. They understood, they used to take care of a team back when they were in high school. They had been the captain, though, and you were only the vice.

        You sling your large gym bag over your shoulder, backpack slung over on your other side, and jingle the gym keys as you start heading out. You were thankful for Karasuno being sport revolved enough that they had two gyms that they let stay open pretty late into the day. Though the soccer team usually liked to practice on their field next to baseball, being inside to do some easier rallies and getting out of the was also nice. Plus, you didn’t want everyone sweating up a storm in such chilly weather. That just begged for sickness.

        Locking up, you start off towards the parking lot, mind drifting as you trudged along.

        Karasuno was your first high school. And you had been here for over a year. That was impressive. You jumped junior high to junior high, being expelled from more than five, you’re pretty sure. You and your sibling had moved to a different district, but you still saw a familiar face or two from some of your old schools. At first, there was immediate fear, but once they heard what the other oblivious high schoolers said about you in class and on the field, they seemed to believe you had changed.

        The ironic thing is... you hadn’t.

        Yes, you had yet to throw a single fist at a student at Karasuno, but it wasn’t because your had changed your ways, but the student body had. These students didn’t provoke you, bully you, didn’t say things to get under your skill like your old peers. These students could care less about you when you first entered freshman year. Now, some of them willingly approached you to talk. You had made friends. Some people even admired you.

        “(Y/n)!” You look up from the ground, eyes catching sight of a familiar car, and in turn, a familiar face. Your sibling laughed when you snapped out of your daze, waving you over with a big grin.

        “Hey Tan-tan,” You replied once in earshot, using the old childhood nickname three year old you had created. You still used it, partly because your siblings found it too cute that you, the vice-captain and once feared student, could say something so childish so easily, but also because you could see a tiny bit of annoyance every time you used it. You can’t remember the last time you used their name. It’s an ongoing joke between you two that you’d had forgotten, or never learned, it.

        “I went and bought food,” They began happily, a little blush on the apples of their cheeks from their own excitement. You rose a brow as you tossed your things into the back seat, climbing into the front.

        “Take out?” You interrupted with a note of irritation. They give you a look from the side of their eyes as they pull out of Karasuno.

        “Technically, yes, but-”

        “No Tan-tan,” You all but whine. “We’ve had take out every day this week.”

        “Shut up,” They snap. There’s no animosity in their tone though, and you watch as they pout at the road. “It’s not like I can cook or whatever. Plus. Takeout is so good!” You just snort in reply to their excuse for self indulgence. Don’t get it wrong, you were always one who liked to opt out of dish duty for a box of Tai food you could chuck out later, but it was too much. The take out started disagreeing with your stomach and you quickly realized you needed actual food that wasn’t covered in grease. This is what you get for introducing your sibling to that new restaurant, though. The one which was just a street away and delivered in less than five minutes.

        “This is the last night,” You finally relent, seeing as how your older siblings pout had yet to recede from their mouth. “Tomorrow we’ll try cooking.”

        “You say that like you can…”

        “Shut it. We’ll figure it out. We’ll just...do it together?” You can’t help but even question yourself. You were clueless about cooking, Tan-tan even more lost than you were - and that was really saying something. You could cook small things, like eggs or pasta, but when it came down to dinner food that was in a wide enough variety that Tan-tan nor you would get sick of it… Well, like you said, you’d figure it out.

        The drive is quiet. A comfortable quiet that has your fingers finding themselves on the piece of curling leather on your seat. You had accidently ripped it off the first day Tan-tan had gotten their car. They yelled. Loudly. But now you found yourself pulling at the strip whenever you were riding shotgun and you had nothing else to do.

        When you both arrive home, the front door is unlocked.

        No, not because someone broke in, but because you always forgot to lock it behind you in the mornings. Your mistake.

        While you had early morning practices, Tan-tan had a morning shift even earlier over at their friends little cafe.

        Tan-tan throws a stained and ruined apron over the singular couch, along with their bag that looked more like a burlap sack. You almost stumble over their shoes they’d thrown off, sending a half hearted glare as you took off your own foot wear.

        The house you two had was small. Which was nice. You knew if it was any bigger the empty space, that hadn’t been filled for a number of years now, would upset you. To see empty bedrooms with beds unused and drawers unfilled…

        No. You definitely couldn’t handle that.

        The first thing you run into, after stepping out of the front door, was the shelving of books and photos. It was the one thing you had personally organized/created. It, at first, was just a little summer project Tan-tan had given you. You knew it was originally given to you so they didn’t have to do anything more with their house. Just a half-hearted idea thrown your way because they were too lazy to finish it themselves.

        It had turned into much more.

        It held Tan-tan and your favorite books. Some for continuous reading, the kind that you could pick up at any time, and then others that were never meant to be moved. Stale memories that would be locked away in their coating of dust. Near those, were photos. Most were of Tan-tan and you when you both were kids.

        There was one of you as just a bundle of blanket and them proudly holding you. Another of them just in their own crib before you were even an idea to be haved. Then there was your first day of elementary. Another of Junior high. Though, there was only one junior high photo even if you had many more than that. Tan-tan said he didn’t like any of those other ones.

        There were many photos of you, Tan-tan, and then the combined. A true family collage of just the both of you.

        You picked up a particular photo. It was an amusingly personal one for you. Those, the ones neither you or Tan-tan were comfortable enough to look at every time you arrived home, could be found hidden away in sock drawers or under mattresses. For instance, you had one of you and the principal of your last junior high standing proud with a soccer trophy clamped in your hands, stuck behind your nightstand. Would’ve been on the ground if the wires of your lamp hadn’t caught it mid fall.

        The photo between your dirty, and you noticed slightly bruised, hands currently was one of those uncomfortably revealing trinkets. The only one of its kind, Tan-tan had noted sometime in the past with a grimace twisting their features.

        It was old. Yellowing in splotches and corners. You knew that if it wasn’t in it’s photo case it would’ve reeked of mildew. This one in a lifetime photo was taken long before you were born. Before Tan-tan was.

        This was the day that foreshadowed your life of mistakes; Tan-tan’s life of mis grievances; and the day that two kids would live in a house by themselves too early in their growing years.

        The day your parents met.

        You put the photo back, turning it down on it’s face for good measure. The people in the photo, who both were college age, were unfamiliar to you. You couldn’t recognize their smiles, or eyes, or postures. They were strangers to you. Only acquaintances to Tan-tan.

        Why had he put the photo back up?

        “Food’s on the table. Still warm!” Tan-tan calls, peeking out from the kitchen. They see where your hand leads to and a frown consumes them. Quickly you snatch your hand away, almost embarrassed, and throw your bags on top of theirs. They scowl playfully. “Watch it, I have important stuff in there!” You roll your eyes.

        “Sure. Like what? A broken phone? A shitty looking notebook? All your love notes to your boss?” They throw something at you then, you don’t see it because your eyes shut as you start laughing.

        “Not funny! There are no love notes!” They yell, a childlike whine entering their tone. “I don’t even like them!” They continue, their voice fading as they storm back into the kitchen. You snicker, going to the couch to snake out your phone.

        You tap through a couple of messages- most from your team thanking you for staying late to clean - and head to the kitchen.

        Though your entire childhood, and maybe a bit before then, was just mistakes after mistakes, you couldn’t help but love where you had ended up. You wouldn’t go back and correct anything. Never. You were here, now, with your sibling grumbling at the dinner table, chopsticks in hand with a warm meal before you, and a team of friends looking out for you.

        No. You’ve never once regretted any of your choices.


	2. Mistake: "Names Are Important"

        You regret your choices.

        Hell, you regret all of them.

        What was Tan-tan going to say?

        What was the school board going to say?

        You let out a groan loud enough that it feels like molten lava in your gut and ends up sounding like some kind of roar. It’s so gruff it hurts your throat.

        You regret that too.

        Out of everything you could’ve done to end today, you had to get into a fight, didn’t you?

        You sit, now. Less out of choice and more out of your knees giving out from carrying you. You had run from the entire thing almost immediately.

        Now on your ass, you decide to scramble the last couple of minutes back into your mind so you can go through the events and somehow find a way to explain how you shouldn’t get expelled.

 

        Everything in the day had started normal. Or...as normal as it could with you living with your sibling.

        They woke you, as always, at an obscenely odd hour of the morning. The sun hadn’t risen, yet. Tan-tan hated leaving for work with you still asleep, so it was either skipping or waking you at four. Since if they skipped anymore work days they’d probably be fired at this point, they rose you with a loud over cheerful yell and a slap to your backside.

        They quickly sprinted out, at that point, escaping you wrath - which lead to your toast getting the full force attack and it ended up charred. You forwent breakfast.

        From there you walked the normal back road to school - something that was only wide enough for bikes and kids, and just as quick as the car would be on the main road. For once, actually, you met no resistance here. Usually you would come face to face with some rowdy 3rd years, or dropouts that had no other hidden back alleys to light up in. This led you to believe that, for once, you were going to have, maybe, a better day than usual.

        Nothing was to be said of your classes, nor lunch. Both filled with your second year peers from your team, and latter your first year kohai and third year senpais loudly talking and laughing.

        It had been a good day.

        And then the final bell rang.

        A member from your team, a senpai that was an outfielder in game, swung by your classroom panting. He warned you immediately of some other third year that, for some reason, had a grudge against you. Apparently your senpai had been bragging about you during their last game and the third year had over heard. Got mad. Said he was coming to find you after school.

        Were you going to run?

        You should have.

        But instead you waited outside, the walkway leading to the second gymnasium, knowing that the guy would want to immediately check where you usually were with your team.

        You hadn’t wanted your team to be affected.

        It was only a handful of minutes before the brute came stomping over to you, face flushed in heated anger and fists balled already ready for a fight.

        The worst part was that you recognized him.

        One of the asses from your old junior highs. One of the ones in the middle that you never could quite remember or force yourself to care about. The only reason you recognized this guy's face from the unnoteworthy school was because he was the sole reason you had gotten expelled for the fourth or fifth time. Had cornered you in the lunchroom, trying to get you to fight. The usual shabang of name calling mixed with weird offensive words about your features. The kind of bullying that only middle schoolers seemed ballsy or creative enough for. You slugged him. Only once. Took him down immediately. Worst past was that he had been one of the teachers sons so you were quickly dropped from that list of students

        He now stood before you, seething, shoulders heaving up and down in a sort of rhythm, as if to keep to a threatening beat you could not quite hear.

        “Hey-” You managed, raising a hand for a mocking wave. He yelled, then, something animalistic, and charged you.

        Long story short, he was pissed you one hit him in junior high. Long story even shorter- you had done it a second time. However, he had gotten a couple hits in before you turned flipped the table with a single swing.

        Though it was all your blood that speckled the ground, it was too reminiscent of junior high and you bolted.

        Ran.

        You couldn't do it all again.

        So now you sat, you think somewhere by the other gym your team never used, hunkered down behind a concrete column berating yourself.

        If you were a normal kid, you could plead self defense. It had been self defense. But with your record… With the kid's parents in higher places than your nonexistent ones, you'd be the one who would get stuck with the punishment. It's how it always went.

        You sigh lowly, moving a worn hand up to cover your face. It was to stop the stream of blood you had let pour out of your nose up till then. You looked like a mess with a blood sprayed shirt, a crimson stained face, and watery eyes as you curled up against the concrete column behind you.

        As silence settled, matching your numb thoughts, a set of feet skid in gravel behind you and you jolt with such surprise you end up tugging at your already messed up nose.

        “Ow-”

        “Oh!” The person says, seeming to only notice you now because of your groan of pain. They tilt back, peeking around the rectangular column down at you. “Yo, you okay?” You don't raise your face, feeling a hot wash of shame moving over your cheeks. You don't want whoever this is seeing you covered in blood mid meltdown.

        Your silence has the kid moving closer.

        “Can you hear me? Hey are you- oh dude, is that blood?” His hand grabs at your shoulder. At this point, it's silly of you to hide, so slowly you raise your head up.

        The first thing you notice about the kid is that he's short. Though you were sitting, and he was leaning over you, you could tell that if you stood you'd be a good couple heads above him.

        The second thing you noticed was his face.

        ….

        Okay so obviously you'd “notice” the face since you were looking up to him, but, specifically, you noticed his eyes first. They were oddly big for his smaller head. You also were sure his gelled up hair added an inch or two to his height. Plus, the dyed chunk of blond in the middle of his brown hair reminded you briefly of a skunk.

        His eyes somehow grew even larger.

        “Woah dude!” He cringed back when he fully saw your face. You chalked it up to being covered in more blood and bruises than you originally believed. You still hadn't actually seen what the 3rd year had done to you.

        The boy's fingers snapped in front of your face and you flinch.

        “I asked if you're okay…” The boys said. You don't… Remember him asking the first supposed time. He takes your silence, and confusion, as a sign of you not actually being okay, and immediately crouches down to offer you an arm.

        Somehow you grow even more confused.

        “Well come on,” He says, a sudden toothy smile flashing on his face. “We gotta get you to the school nurse.” You blink slowly. Out of all the reactions from this kid you were kind of… not expecting help? He was probably a first year. First years scared easily. You knew that well. However this one seemed all too ready to brace your weight on him. Actually...Are you sure he could even help carry you? You were pretty solid from playing Soccer for so many years and he looked kind of tiny in comparison.

        However you had little choice as he had already pull one of your arms up and over his shoulder and lifted with his back. You scrambled to stand up so he wouldn’t crumble under you.

        He definitely was shorter.

        He pulled the majority of your weight onto him, and refused to let you take any of it back as he began walking you. Your worry for the first year slowly ebbed away as your head became light and your vision blurry. You were sure that if you had tried to walk yourself up to the nurse you would’ve passed out. Was it lack of blood? Probably not. Maybe just the climax of events had finally fallen fully onto your shoulders and you were feeling the brunt force of it all.

        Or blood loss. Looking down at your ruined and stained white shirt, you decided it was definitely blood loss.

        “Heyyy don’t fall asleep!” The boy jostled you. You hadn’t realized you were closing your eyes. You knew at times like this you weren’t supposed to take a nap but damn did you want to. The idea was suddenly so nice. “Hey!” He shook you again.

        “Where even is the nurse?” You suddenly ask as the boy takes you into the almost empty school. You both were on the first floor, you knew that much, but would the nurse even be there when the kid dragged you into the room? You were pretty positive no one but you, the kid you knocked out, and the one dragging you, were the only people still present.

        “Of course!” He quips, pulling you around a corner. “I go there all the time.” You send him a weary look. Was it because he was some delinquent? No, you weren’t even going to try to go down that thought process. Just because he had some dyed hair didn’t mean he prowled the back alleys. Plus, you couldn’t see the small first year doing something like that. Definitely not. He was...too heroic for that?

        Heoric?

        “Heyy, nurse!” His yell had you mumbling a whine under your breath. He knocked at the door with his foot - he literally kicked the door while holding you up. He pauses. There is no answer, like you had expected, but the kid gives a grunt of annoyance as if he was generally surprised by the nurses absence. The first year looks to you, frowns, and then lowers you to the ground by the locked door.

        “Hold this to your nose,” The kid says, shrugging off his black jacket to drop it into your lap. Without hesitating you take the cloth to your - still - gushing nose. It stops the flow, at least soaks it up a bit, along with the infernal dripping. The kid watched you for a quiet moment.

        There was a question in his eyes. You knew he wanted to ask what happened to your face, which you were still unaware to how bad it actually looked. You scrambled to think of some kind of believable and non-incriminating lie.

        “Wait here!” He blurts suddenly, getting you to jump, and spins on his heels to dash off down the hall.

        You dumbly blink at the empty hallway he had vanished, in mere seconds, down.

        Had he just...run away?

        By the time he returns the blood had officially crusted over across your face. His jacket was crumpled and stuffed under your arm in attempt to find a place for it as your other hand practically embedded itself in the wall next to you. You had begun to stand up, assuming the kid had run off on you in fear that you had done something horrible to get your face jacked and didn’t want to be apart of it all.

        Something cold pressed into your cheek, the cut there burning, making you hyper aware of its presence when you hadn’t known it had ever existed.

        “Don’t stand up yet.” The kid says, giving a weary smile as you replace his hand to hold the cold, yet paper towel to your face. It was warm in only a couple of seconds, your flushed cheeks too hot for it, but you were able to clean off the blood. Or. Some of it. The kid snickered at you, taking the towel back to clean you himself since he was the only to actually see any of the smears.

        He was gentle enough as he toweled off your face. It annoyed you a bit that you couldn’t do it yourself, but the boy didn’t seem to mind. Once your face, as he reassured, was clean, he pulled a bag of ice from his back pocket and presented it do you with some insane grin. He was a bit too proud of himself when you took the back and all but smashed it to your face.

        “Where’d you get this?” You mumble through the bag.

        “The volleyball team is still practicing. There’s a big cooler of ice in there for the water bottles. Didn’t think they’d mind.” You nod, moving the cold bag to the bridge of your nose so that he’d be able to hear you.

        “Thanks.” Was what you said. You peeked at the kid around the bag and he was just leaning against the wall next to you, nodding along.

        “No problem. You were pretty messed up.” You laugh, giving your own jerk of a nod.

        “Yeaaah,” You draw out, hissing when the ice shifted and pushed roughly into a forming bruise. “Kind of deserved it.”

        “Really?” He asks in surprise. His brows furrow a bit, in a silent condemning thought, before he looks off to the windows lining the opposite wall. “I don’t wanna see the kid you fought with, then.”

        “What’s that supposed to mean?”

        “Don’t know. You don’t look like someone who’d lose.” You stare. “Or someone who’d get into a fight for no reason.” He calmly says. There is no hesitation in his sudden list of profile for you and you can’t help but be a tiny bit unnerved. You two had just met and he was just blurting whatever came to the top of his head, wasn’t he? You knew he wasn’t wrong, but how did he understand that part of you only by dragging you around the school?

        It was...kind of cool.

        You mean, come on. He was doing this laid back pose on the wall, staring off out the window after just helping you for no reason other than he was the one to find you, and was now understanding of the situation you had yet to explain?

        It was kind of definitely cool.

        You push yourself back up to your feet after checking the watch on your wrist. He turns to stop you, but you’ve already propped yourself up on the wall, turned towards him. He cocks his head to the side, his two inch hair pressing and deforming against the plaster.

        “Thanks,” You say again. “For patching me up and whatever,” You try to elaborate but it just comes off halfhearted. “I have to get going. It’s 4:10 now and-”

        “4:10?!” The boy actually jumps back in surprise, eye wildly flying around. “I’m soooo late. Captain’s gonna get so mad.” He swipes up your discarded, bloody paper towel, grins happily at you, and then sprints down the hallway in the way you two had come from. “Bye and your welcome!” He shouts at you just as he spins around the corner and out of sight.

        Your brain finally registers he’s gone and that your team is probably in their gym worrying over you, their vice. Last they had heard was some third year coming to get you and you hadn’t shown for practice. You decided, though there was still an hour left, that you’d skip and head home. You didn’t want your captain seeing your face like it was and getting worried. Plus, you hoped that if you went home and properly medicated your mug, it would appear almost normal by the next day.

        You trudge your sorry ass all the way back home.

        Tan-tan was not pleased to see you. At first it was because you were home early, meaning you skipped on practice. Seconds later it was because of your crimson face and they immediately knew, from years of you stumbling home as a middle schooler covered in bruises and wounds, that you’d gotten into a fight.

        They lead you to your bathroom, sat you on the toilet seat, and began working on your face. You were washed with a sense of sickening nostalgia. You knew this common scene well enough. Coming home, sitting in the bathroom, Tan-tan looming over you as they pushed disinfectant in your cuts, and you crying because it hurt so much. Crying because you had disappointed your siblings for the hundredth time- even though they reassured you that you hadn’t.

        That was years ago, though.

        Now when you sat you were just about the same height as Tan-tan, they no longer loomed, and you had no tears welling up as you had when you were only thirteen. Even when they rudely pushed a dry cotton ball into your split lip.

        “Are you going to school tomorrow?” They asked, a twisted question that was asking more out of curiosity to if you were expelled, and less to know if you were in too much pain to go in.

        “Yes.” You snapped, a bit annoyed with Tan-tan’s sullen face. They had lost their sympathy card for you long ago. Though they were your older sibling, they bottled up their pathos after you entered your last junior high.

        “Really?” They ask, their hopes raised.

        “...As far as I know.” Tan-tan nodded. They then smiled kindly to you, their hand rubbing your back as they pushed you to go into the kitchen to eat. It was, once again, take out.

        Today you didn’t mind.

        “What’s this?” Tan-tan suddenly said, gaining your attention away from your Tai-food wrapped up in your palms.

        “What’s what?” You asked, eyes going to the black lump in their hand. Suddenly, they dropped it with a strangled look on their features.

        “Oh, gross, it’s covered in blood!” They stuck their tongue out in disgust and you rolled your eyes in humor.

        Picking up the clothing piece from the floor, you’re suddenly struck with the memory of the supposed first year who had helped you.

        “I forgot to ask his name!”

        “Wha-Who’s name? The guy who you got into a fight with?”

        “What? No.” Tan-tan gives you a look, annoyed with your tone you were using, as if expecting him to know exactly what and who you were referencing.

        “Some kid helped me. Got me ice.” You explained briefly. Not sure if you wanted to describe how bad you actually had been before you were cleaned up. “He gave me this for my nose bleed.”

        “Well it’s practically ruined. What is it… a jacket?” You nod, holding it up by the shoulders.

        “The Flightless Crows?” You ask, confused by the words on the back of it. “I think it’s a sport team at the school.” You pause, going back over the boys words from earlier. “Volleyball maybe.”

        “Whatever it’s for, you’ve stained it in blood. Here. Give it to me. I’ll see if I can get it back to normal.”

        “Thanks Tan-tan!”

        “Whatever! Thank me by not getting expelled!”

        “I- I’ll promise that after I know by tomorrow.”

        “I don’t- Just eat your food.”


	3. Mistake: "Jackets Are Hard to Return"

        It took three days for Tan-tan to remove all of the blood from the short boy’s jacket. “Short boy” is what you decided you’d call the kid who’d helped you when you were beaten up. When you found out his name, you’d immediately drop the nickname. However, you still could not find out who the hell this kid was. Three days of searching and combing through the first years and you had not found a single hint of this boy. You also hadn’t the guts to march into the gym when the boys volleyball was practicing without a solid reason. Like the guys jacket.

        Something else that happened during the long annoying three days - or, something that didn’t happen - was your expulsion. In fact, there was not even a rumor breathed about a fight. No one said anything, no one asked about the third year that had come to talk to you, and no one seemed to notice the bruises on your face. Perhaps, everyone had chalked it up to soccer practice. It was a bit odd, but you were completely fine with it.

        Life seemed pretty normal, actually. Yet, you’d already just learned that a day that felt a bit better than normal was not going to end in your favor. You were extremely cautious with the boys volleyball jacket clutched in your fist throughout the school day. No one spared you a glance, and your team never once asked about the article of clothing during lunch. When the bell for the end of the school day rang, you were the first out of the classroom.

        Your phone buzzes in the halls as you fight through the usual end of day traffic of students going to clubs or hitching rides back to their homes.

        Fishing the device from your pocket, curling the jacket under your arm, you see a text from your captain.

 

CaptainSirOikii: You coming to practice today?

 

        Your brows furrow at the text, eyes briefly flying up to check you weren’t about to collide with anyone as you quickly answer.

 

(Y/n): Yeah. You doubting me now lmao

CaptainSirOikii: No.

                        You okay?

(Y/n): Sounds like dooooubt. Lol I’m fine.

         I need to drop something off

         For a teacher

         But i’ll be there.

 

        Your phone stays silent then. You pocket it before you can feel guilty; before he tries to message you again too. It was a minor, tiny lie, but it needed to be made. Oi-kii, the nickname for your Captain, would give you hell for missing. Gave you triple the amount the day you missed it because of the fight. You had to make some bad excuse for why you didn’t make it, that he easily saw through, but you refused to tell him the real reason. Tensions were stressed but that just lead to you getting later hours of practice “to make it up”. You didn’t mind. You loved soccer.

        You can finally breathe when you burst out of the crowd of peers and you’re hit with cool air. You glance around, seeing the cluster had immediately moved to the parking lot instead of the gymnasiums and you’re left in a surprisingly lonesome quiet.

        Briskly, you start to make your way towards the gym that held the volleyball team. They practiced during the same time your team did, so hopefully you could just hand the jacket over, ask for the guys name, ask what damn grade he was in - because  it was not first year you now knew - and then get the hell out. You hated random, forced encounters with people. Specially if there is an entire curious team around to want to see if their player was okay or not. You assumed this was how the volley team was, since your own was definitely like that. Hell, you were like that. Just last week you listened in on your first year bench warmers conversation just to make sure he was okay.

        You...still weren’t sure if he was. You’d have to talk to him later.

        Putting those thoughts on the back burner, you pause just outside of the gymnasium doors.

        You could hear, what you assumed to be, volley balls slapping harshly against the polished floors, and loud war-like shouts as people moved and played, what you again assumed to be, volleyball. You reached for the door but you hesitated.

        Maybe… You should come back later. Like after their practice. That way you wouldn’t interrupt and become the center of attention. Was that pretentious? Or just something you knew would happen with a sports team? You didn’t know if either were right. You did know, however, that you really rather put off walking into that gym until after your own practice. That way you could force one of your teammates to come with you and-

        Wait...What were you thinking?

        If you put this off til after practice, someone on your team would insist one coming with you. That would lead them to listening to whatever you and the short boy would discuss. Which would most likely be about your fight. Meaning the guys would find out about the fight.

        Which you could not let happen.

        You definitely had it do it now or you risked-

        “Hello?” You spring forward, into the metal doors, before whipping around with accusing eyes.

        The hostile look almost immediately slipped from your features when you’re met with a looming figure. They stood much taller than you. Heads above you. It was a tall man with a thin beard starting on his chin and long hair pulled back into a bun. He was like some kind of delinquent towering over you, probably pissed you were skulking around the gym.

        “Do you play volleyball?” Came the innocent voice of the giant. You blink, growing confused at the mismatched tone. He sounded almost… nervous?

        “Oh- uh? Me? No. I don’t- not volleyball,” You managed, not sure where your own words were going. The man stuttered a nod, eyes avoiding yours.

        “Are you coming in?” He asked again, even quieter, hand going past your head to gently push at the doors behind you. You shake your head, and then after a silent thoughtless thought, you move out of the way.

        “I, uh, went to the wrong gym,” You pushed out from your constricting chest. The man hums, giving another nod. He went to go into the gym, pushed the door halfway open, and then paused to once more to turn your way.

        “You’re on the soccer team?” Your voice chokes at your own surprise. Why was this nervous guy, who now obviously was not some kind of delinquent, trying to continue the already awkward conversation with you? You wouldn’t drop it, though. If felt right to help along.

        “I am.” You state. You jostle your gym bag on your shoulder, as if the blank bag could prove that your were the vice captain or played the said sport.

        “Y-You all went to the W-winter Kokuritsu last year, right?” You once again give a blank nod. You had definitely picked up on the man's stutter at this point.

        “We did!” You feel a grin worming its way onto your face. Pride welled in your chest at the mention of the nationwide soccer tournament. “We didn’t win, but we didn’t really lose, you know?” You laugh, your face in a full blown smile now. Second greatest soccer team in the entire nation was something to definitely be proud of. Little old Karasuno, which was not a power school in any sport it offered, or in any academic it taught, yet your team...Your team grabbed “second best in Japan”.

        “It’s amazing…” He says quietly. His attention is grabbed by something in the gym, and you can see a flush run it’s course by darkening his cheeks. He bowed awkwardly towards you, mumbling a goodbye, before hurrying inside. For some reason it reminds you of your own practice and you scurry away.

        You set yourself in the gym, watching your team run drills back and forth. Your captain sends you a small glance before focusing once more on someone else. You frown down at your cleats, which you were definitely not about to put on in the gym, and notice the black jacket still in your hands.

        You’d...just do it later.

        Much...Much later.

        Yeah.

        Definitely.

        “(Y/n)!” You snap your head up, finding your captain jogging your way, the usual frown knit across his face.

        “Yo,” You reply, obnoxiously as always. You respected your captain but it had become a running shtick between you two. He’d be the ultra serious one and you would be the relaxed laid back Vice. In comparison to him? You definitely seemed to be.

        “Tan-tan called.” He states quickly, eyes wracking over your expression to gauge your reaction.

        “Tan-tan? About what?” The captain’s lips curl in.

        “They want you home.”

        “Home!?” You shout, gaining a few worried glances.

        “They said they’re in the parking lot.” Your hands ball in the black jacket. Knowing your sibling well enough, you quickly zip up your sports bag and bow deeply to your captain.

        “I’m sorry, but i’ll have to miss today’s practice after all.” You rose back up immediately, wanting to see how pissed your captain actually was.

        However, a soft look ghosted his usual stern features and his hand reassuringly gripped at your shoulder. You had known this guy in your last junior high, one of your only friends, and he seemed to have a good understanding of Tan-tan. Enough so, he’d know that Tan-tan would never come and get you, stealing you from school or practice, for their own selfish reasons. Only the worse could be assumed in this situation.

        When the captain's hand slipped from your shoulder you turned on tail and immediately left.

        You pass the other gym on your way to the parking lot. The doors are propped open now and you can directly see inside. You almost stop to watch an orange haired kid go flying through the air, but push yourself on.

        Your sibling is sitting in their car, hunkered down low. They’re oddly still and a rush of fears grips at you as you jog over.

        You brashly knock a couple of your knuckles on the window. The immediate response is Tan-tan jerking up, eyes wide but distant. Blinking a few times, they focus on you. Immediately you see the problem.

        They have a paleness to their face and their eyes refuse to stay connected to your own. They are wearing multiple layers, even though it’s ebbing into the spring season and there’s no need.

        They were sick.

        However, when Tan-tan was this kind of sick, they were too far gone. You were surprised they had been able to even drive here safely. Because of their work, they usually ignored their health. Which bothered you to no end. Bothered their boss too. Probably why Tan-tan was in your school parking lot and not hanging around the Cafe.

        “(Y/n)...” They mumble, head falling to rest on their shoulder. “Sorry…” You frown, the broken tone tugging at your heartstrings. You sigh, shaking your head.

        “Don’t apologize.” You reply, pulling out your phone instead of getting in the car.

        “...You calling Kiyoko?”

        “I am.”

        “Dooooon’t.” They whine childishly. They watch the window slowly roll down as you hold your cell to your ear, watching your sibling in amusement as they try to reach up to grab your arm. Even that action seems to tire them out.

        “Hello?” A soft voice suddenly buzzes from the other side of your phone.

        “Hey Kiyoko-san, It’s (Y/n).” You begin, eyeing your teary eyed sibling as they try to get you to stop talking. “I’m sorry to bother you, but are you still at the school?”

        “Ah, (Y/n)-kun. I am still at the school. Why?”

        “Tan-tan is sick.”

        “Oh.” She says, understanding lining her silky voice. You smile knowingly, sending Tan-tan a winning look. They verbally groan. “This is probably why Ai-san asked if I could work today…”

        “Ai-chan called you?” You suddenly ask. Tan-tan straightens a bit at the name of their boss.

        “Yes. Oh, but… Are you calling because Tan-tan cannot drive?”

        “Yeah,” You say after you nod and realize she can’t see you. “Sorry. I’m just worried about him driving…” Kiyoko makes a noise of agreement. Briefly the phone is muffled, mostly likely to give her privacy as she asked whoever she was staying after with if she could leave early.

        “Why’d you have to call her.” Tan-tan whines from his drivers seat. They pout heavily. “Just because we work together-”

        “Are you kidding me. Tan-tan, you and her are friends. You were the one who helped her start work with you at the Cafe. She just said she doesn’t even mind. Plus she’s the only one I know that can drive and is out this late. Would you have wanted me to call Ai-chan?”

        “No!” They spit, now looking even more like a child as they slump down.

        “(Y/n), are you still there?”

        “Hey, sorry.”

        “Where are you two?”

        “Just in the parking lot.” You can her her soft breathing as she gathers her things. Then, a bang of a metal door that you hear both on and off the phone. Soon, from the direction of the sound, you see Kiyoko.

        You didn’t know the third year very well. However, what you gathered about her was that she was determined, hard working, and extremely kind. She worked with your older sibling at the Cafe, and every time you visited you would watch them banter behind the counter. She was quiet, at first, but seemed to lighten up when your sibling got her laughing. It was a nice, beautiful sight. The customers at least agreed with you. Tan-tan said that once Kiyoko started to work with them, they had grown quite popular.

        Kiyoko sometimes would swing by the house, mostly for work reasons. Other times it was because Tan-tan would beg for her to hang out. It was an odd friendship, but one nonetheless. She seemed to like Tan-tan’s motherly nature. She also was a god send when it came to school work. She graciously helped you with a chunk of your homework whenever she’d come by. It was a situation that was becoming more and more frequent.

        “Good afternoon (Y/n)-kun, Tan-san.” You smiled cheerfully, waving once she came close. She gave a small bow of her head, eyes immediately finding your sibling. “How did you drive here…?”

        “I don’t know how they did it,” You state, shaking your head at the mess in the driver's seat. “But I definitely don’t want them driving back. I would walk them home, but I don’t think they’d make it…”

        “You’re right. Thank you for calling me.” Kiyoko bows a tiny bit again towards both of you, and you wildly shake your head.

        “I’m the one thanking you, Kiyoko-san. I keep having to call you for rides…” She shakes her head, a small smile curling up her plump lips. Pulling her keys from her bag, she goes to Tan-tan’s car to open his door. “You’re too nice.”

        You both struggle to carry your, suddenly incredibly, heavy sibling over to her vehicle. It was rare for high school students to get licenses, seeing as how much money and time it was needed to be put into it. You thanked everything for Kiyoko’s early birthday, along with her parents and her job at the cafe.

        The drive to your home is filled with a mourning Tan-tan, who believes their car is, for some reason, being towed and they’ll never see it again. Also, the soft humming from Kiyoko as she drove.

        She was beautiful, yes, but that wasn’t the main reason people adored her. Maybe to some who hadn’t yet to meet her. Kiyoko was kind. Too kind. And always was the person to go out of her way for others just out of some kind of need to help. She was also an incredibly driven person. She told you she used to do track, back in Junior High, but had to quit because of an injury. Kiyoko said it no longer bothered her much, but she definitely could never do any heavy running and jumping as she used too.

        You know it still bothered her.

        Maybe that was the reason her and Tan-tan got along so well. They understood each other.

        You are able to carry Tan-tan inside of your house once Kiyoko had helped you settle them in your arms. Deliriously they hum a wedding song as Kiyoko uses her personal set of your house keys to go in first, holding the door for you.

        She turns the lights on, dashing away the thick shadows that hung in the almost windowless room.

        Once you had settled your sibling up in their bed, making sure they were nestled under thick comforters and had the house phone close enough to them that they could grab it and use it if need be, you meet your Senpai back downstairs.

        “Thanks again, Kiyoko-san.” You say once the silence has become too thick for your liking.

        “Of course, (Y/n)-kun.” She replies, giving you another small smile that you easily return.

        “For taking care of Tan-tan too.” You add slowly, eyes flickering away from the girl to focus on your bags you'd thrown against the back of the couch. “At the cafe and… In general this year.”

        Tan-tan had gone their whole life taking care of you. They only wanted you to ever have to worry about school and soccer. Which left them with no one to care for them.

        You remember vividly once, when you were much smaller and when Tan-tan was too tired to control their thoughts, them telling you that ‘don’t worry’, because they were used to being alone. Now, much older, you could see it in them every second they moved. A hardness to their eyes, a tremor in their smiles of reassurance. They grew up without parents and without an older siblings. Tan-tan had been alone. This is why you pushed the idea that you would be there for them. Why you picture a scene of survival when imaging your family portraits that only pictured the both of you. You both were alone...But now it seemed Tan-tan had someone other than you looking out for them.

        Kiyoko’s reply is something new, you note afterwards. You see surprise on her face, and her voice isn't instantaneous as her previous answers. Instead, when you meet her eyes after a minute, they wetly shimmer before a small smile begins budding on her lips. It's slow, but it blooms and shines down on you like the sun and your chest squeezes once more.

        “Always.” She finally voices, but you know she's no longer talking to you. There is something more there, seeping through her usual facade. Something involving your sibling and, you're sure, something they said rashly without considering its effects on others.

        Your sibling was always like that.


	4. Mistake: "Never Preparing Ahead of Time"

        “We’re what?” You ask again, for the third time you grudgingly note.

        Tan-tan turns around, giving you an annoyed narrow of their eyes. They had already explained what was going on a handful of times now, but you were beyond confused. Still. Even if you both were walking into the event after a half hour drive and searching for seats.

        “Like I said,” They seethed, eyes rolling so hard they almost toppled right out of their head. “We’re repaying Kiyoko-chan by going to the game of the team she's managing.”

        “But why” You start in response like after every time they explained so far, “are we repaying her by me getting out of school to watch a game? Shouldn’t we, like, buy her something? Or say she doesn’t have to take care of you after school for once?” You’re sent another look by your sibling. Normally, this is when you’d break into a grin because you’ve officially succeeded in annoying the shit out of Tan-tan, but you were actually being quite honest. For once. They seemed to see it in your eyes and, instead of snapping at you, sits themselves down in one of the seats you both were standing in front of.

        It makes you aware that the two of you are in the stands of a gym, overlooking a court that had been set up some time before people began making their way inside of the school. You can’t quite remember the school's name, as you had just seemed to realize that Tan-tan had lead you into a school.

        Honestly. You were getting worse and worse at noticing your surroundings.

        That’d be a problem on the field, you mentally note as you sit yourself down next to your sibling.

        “She really wanted us to come watch.” Tan-tan says. Quieter now. Or at a normal volume.

        “She wanted you to come watch,” You edit, sinking a bit further down into the seat. You didn’t mind watching Kiyoko’s team, though you were struggling to remember what sport she managed, exactly. It was just...that...well…

        You didn’t care about any sport other than soccer?

        Hell, you didn’t really care about any extra thing run by schools other than your sport.

        Why should you? Soccer was your...everything. After the shit show of your many junior highs, and thinking you really honestly did not belong anywhere, you had been handed a soccer ball.

        So if it was not being touched by feet, why should you waste practice time to watch it?

        You click you tongue, frowning at your own thoughts. Tan-tan would probably hit you if they heard what you were thinking.

        “She said that this was probably the biggest game of the year.”

        “Really? It’s not their last one though…” You’re a sent a look and you sink further down on yourself, trying to ignore the glare. You knew what it meant. He was annoyed that you were being a hypocrite.

        You had many games that, because the specific team contained a rival of yours, you pushed yourself harder during those than some of your others.

        But instead of voicing the understanding you’d made a childish quip about it.

        You reminded yourself that you were here for Kiyoko.

        Remembering the girl, your eyes go to the court that held the two teams warming up. Both were keeping to themselves, going through, what you assumed, the normal routine. Someone threw a ball up, another member then hit it over the net. You didn’t know much about volleyball, if anything at all, but you knew simple drills when you saw them.

        “Where’s Kiyoko-san?” You ask, nudging your sibling. They blink, eyes scanning, and then their finger raises.

        Kiyoko is sitting on the bench on the side with the players with black and orange themed uniforms.

        Oh right. She managed the boys volleyball team. For some reason it just clicked in your mind, even when you knew you were there for the girl and you had been staring at volley nets. With a jolt, you lean forward to try and spot if the short boy was apart of the team.

        There are bench warmers, like any sport team, but none of them resemble the short boy. They looked relatively normal height and were about the same as Kiyoko, who sat with them on the other side of the young looking coach.

        That must mean the short boy was a first stringer. Wasn’t volleyball a height centered sport? Like Basketball? You brush the idea away. You knew people who battled height favored sports with skill.

        You see an orange head fly through the air, and you feel a vague familiarity seeing the wild scene. That short kid was probably close to the height of your short boy. When he land he sends a bright smile to his teammates before jogging to the back of the line. He had a skip to his step, like an overexcited child knowing they’d get to go get a treat after school or something. When he’s in the back he’s hit over the head by a tall black haired boy and the two seem to start bickering. You’re too far to hear any of the traded words.

        Farther up in the line, you finally find him. The short boy. He’s in an orange jersey that stands out from the rest of them - you’re not sure how you hadn’t spotted him earlier. He’s bouncing in his spot, looking excited and ready for the game as he rambles on to a bald student next to him. You’re sure it’s just a close shave, but you can’t quite tell with how you and Tan-tan are seated.

        You move to point the shorter boy out to your sibling, but decide against it. It wasn’t like you were going to introduce them or something. The guy was just someone you needed to return a jacket to. Not friends. It was even a stretch in saying acquaintances.

        Plus, you didn’t even bring the jacket with you. It was in your gym bag back home. You knew if you put it there, you’d always have it with you. Or, that was the thought you had when deciding to put it there and not your school bag.

        You had a habit of misplacing your school bag. Another series of mistakes to add to your many volumes.

        “They’re starting,” Tan-tan says, as if you didn’t eyes. Maybe it didn’t seem like you did since you had zoned out and weren’t using them. You hadn’t even registered his words until you hear the slap of a volleyball ricocheting off of the gym floor and up into the air. Shoes squeak as players move to retaliate and your eyes are drawn to the orange jersey.

        The ball flies back and forth. It’s hypnotizing until it is grounded by one of the hitters. Almost as if the goal of the game wasn’t to keep the ball up, but to bring it down from it’s flight. You thought of a bird, then. A flying bird that, because of the people below it, is brought back down to earth.

        The short boy bouncing the ball up into the air by sliding his foot under it stops you from thinking of such a weird metaphor.

        Instead, you’re floored.

        The guy just popped the ball back up with his foot. You didn’t do volleyball, but you were pretty sure they couldn’t use their feet? That was left for soccer. Hell, that looked like a save you’d do while in front of your goal.

        “Tan-tan,” You say, without dragging your eyes away. They grumble something before leaning in. “Can he do that?”

        “Do what?”

        “With his foot- he used his foot to save the ball.”

        “Sure, they didn’t call it.”

        “But..but isn’t-”

        “He’s a libero.” The unknown word stops your complaining. Finally you look at your sibling instead of the quickly progressing game.

        “Libero?” Tan-tan looks at you too.

        “He’s...Well you could compare him to a goalie.” He nudges you. “You know how your job is to make sure the game keeps going by protecting the ball?” You nod. “His job is to keep the game alive too. He just has to make sure the ball stays up and in play.”

        Oh, you think, he’s the one that makes sure that the people don’t stop the birds flight. He’s like the wind, propelling the bird on.

        You’ve definitely been absorbing too much from your literature class.

        The short boy does multiple amazing saves while you watch. In fact, the more you become aware of the orange flash of his jersey, the more you realize that he’s definitely the one moving the most. He’s practically everywhere. He’s the only one freely moving between the front and back lines and doesn’t, as Tan-tan tells you, spike the ball.

        He’s panting by the time he’s switched out to be replaced by the orange haired boy. Seeing the short one sit on the bench, guzzling water and wiping sweat from his features, you curse not bringing the jacket. You should’ve been more aware of what sport team Kiyoko managed and where Tan-tan had been taking you.

        For the rest of the game, which Karasuno prevailed in, in the end, your eyes are following that orange jersey. You were entranced by his plays.

        So what if he didn’t do any of the crowd loving spikes, or the crazy sets (from the setter Tan-tan also informed) or the quick set that had the students in the bleachers screaming in excitement? He saved the ball, kept it flying, kept the team going, kept the hope alive even when they had lost the first set. You had a similar job on your team. The one who kept the ball rolling and the team going when they could rely on you to, even if they couldn’t, stop the opposing team at the goal. Sometime you’d get recognition, but a lot of the time you didn’t. The striker, whose main purpose was to make the goals, was the crowned player.

        And you didn’t mind.

        And, when the short boy was cheering with his team, you were sure he didn’t either.

        “Ready to go?” Tan-tan asks, standing. You were so wrapped up in the game you almost forgot they were present. “I wanna see Kiyoko-chan before we head on home.” You nod, letting them pass by before you stand and follow.

        The watchers clear out quickly. The faster ones, you note, are definitely from Karasuno. Meaning they had a long drive ahead of them, just like you and Tan-tan. The ones who had stayed a bit longer were either residents who didn’t need to rush themselves, or fans who wanted to catch a glimpse of the teams before they headed out.

        Before the room was cleared, but when the majority had left, Tan-tan leads the way towards the locker rooms.

        You hear voices from the closed doors. One of the rooms much louder than the other. You assume the winning team is celebrating verbally while the others just quietly changed.

        Unfamiliar players exit the rooms. Immediately, their eyes fall to you and Tan-tan, two people obviously having nothing to do with the sport. You both seemed to be presumed fans. Some bow their heads in brief passing, others completely ignore you. You don’t mind either action.

        “Excuse me,” A soft voice says from your side. “But no one is allowed back here that isn’t…(Y/n)? Tan-tan?” You had already turned to see who was trying to boot you and Tan-tan out before you two could see Kiyoko, but your name and the familiar voices has your eyes in seconds.

        In front of you stands one of your few friends. You’re surprised to see them in a volleyball uniform, but even more guilty since you hadn’t noticed them the entire game.

        “Suga?” You ask if you didn’t recognize the beauty marked third year. He chuckles, stepping closer to you both with a big smile on his lips.

        Though he was a third-year, you had met him when you first had entered high school. Nothing crazy like your introduction with short boy, or through short connections as with Kiyoko, and obviously nothing to do with your team, but something much more tame. You both had the same gym period. Though he was a third year and you a second, the times were in the same slot. You guys quickly got to talking when he was the first person to willingly speak to you, since it was right after junior high when you were used to ignoring others and no one wanting to go out of their way to be nice. Sugawara was, as the girls in your gym class would scream, a cinnamon roll. He was kind of brotherly towards you, which was very much welcomed after being alone all throughout junior high.

        “You came all the way out here to watch us?” He asks, grinning from ear to ear. You laugh.

        “You wish.”

        “What? I go to all of your games and-”

        “You do not!” You gasp loudly, playfully. Sugawara snorts, his shoulder jostling.

        “In spirit,” he says with a straight face and this get’s Tan-tan joining the laughter.

        “What ever. You’re too busy being vice to come.”

        “Says the vice.” he retaliates with an eye roll. You shrug, smiling.

        “We actually came cause Kiyoko invited us.” Sugawara then mumbles something about how you come to his game only when a pretty girls asks you. You whole heatedly agree. It gets you a few hits in the gut.

        “I’m surprised you got out of practice to come-” Sugawara says, his eyes drifting a bit from you to watch his team come out of their locker room. Most are rough housing, one of them practically picking up the orange haired kid to throw in their elation. “Put Hinata down Tanaka!” The tall and semi-bald teen sets the other kid down almost immediately. Suga sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose like a burdened mother and you snicker. He sends a deathly glare and you start laughing harder.

        Like a pissed off mother hen.

        “You had practice?” Tan-tan finally pipes up, cutting your laughter with a knife. You immediately fall silent, panic ensuing when you can feel your sibling’s terrifying glare on the side of your head.

        “No…” You say slowly.

        “(Y/n)-” They begin threateningly, but they’re stopped by the beautiful manager sweeping into the small ring with a heaven sent flourish.

        “Kiyoko-san!” You burst, glad to quickly flee from the conversation you knew you’d get hit with as soon as you and Tan-tan entered their car.

        “I’m so glad you and Tan-san could make it, (Y/n)-kun.” You nod, smiling. Kiyoko holds up a small bag, handing it to Sugawara.

        “This is Tsukishima’s bag. He left it inside.” She gestures over her shoulder to the locker room. The bag she passed over was small, probably only big enough for a phone. Suga gives the bag a look and then “oh”s out verbally, seeming to understand what it was for. He then bows to Tan-tan and punches your arm before jogging off to a tall blond wearing glasses. You put two and two together and assume it was a bag for his glasses’ case.

        “Did you enjoy the game?” Kiyoko asks, eyes snapping back to you. You can see the overjoyed expression trying to push through her shy exterior and it just makes you grin.

        “It was amazing!” You all but yell, fists clenching in front of your chest. “It got me pumped! If I wasn’t playing soccer I’d be playing-”

        “You’d be what?” Tan-tan asks with a deceiving smile and sickly sweet tone.

        “I-I’d, uh, be cheering for them more often!” You quickly say, laughing nervously. Kiyoko giggled at the sight of Tan-tan brow beating you into submission. You didn’t find it amusing in the slightest, but it was nice to hear the woman's rare titter.

        “Kiyoko-san!” A man called. He stood next to Sugawara, both amongst their volleyball team. His eyes met yours and he seemed to realize she had been in the middle of a conversation. “We’ll be at the bus!” He edits, nodding in her general direction before helping Sugawara coral their team outside. Like tired parents with too many rambunctious toddlers, you think.

        “Will you be riding back with us?” Kiyoko asks, and you mumble heaven sent under your breath.

        “Oh no, we would never assume that kind of imposing.” Tan-tan giggled, shaking their head. “I drove us here. No worries.” They pull at the keys in their pocket to provide some kind of evidence. Kiyoko gives a simple nod.

        “Oh,” She begins, eyes going to the doors as she was well aware of the time that was slowly ticking by before departure of the sport bus. “By the way, do you need any more help with your math, (Y/n)-kun?” You blink.

        “Don’t I always?” You spout jokingly.

        “Then…” Kiyoko’s cheeks turn a soft pink and she avoids Tan-tan eyes even though she turns directly towards them. “Will it be alright if I come over then after school tomorrow?” Tan-tan smiles, oblivious to her nervousness.

        “Of course! You don’t have to ask every time Kiyoko-chan.” The girl nods slowly, smiling. “I mean, i gave you a set of the house keys for a reason.” They chuckle.

        “Right. Thank you. Well i’ll be off. See you both later.” She bows to you two, which you both return, before scurrying off.

        If you didn’t know better, she was acting oddly shy around your sibling. Who, of course, wasn’t aware of shit as they waved for you to follow them to the place where they had parked their car.

        Usually Kiyoko would ask, of course, if it was okay if she came over, but never had she asked so...timidly? Hell, sometimes, for dinner, she’d just come over with food in tupperware knowing how much you hated Tan-tan’s take-out obsession. It seemed that, lately, she was practically living at your place. Which neither you nor Tan-tan was bothered by. Though it made you wonder why the sudden increase in visits. You weren’t that stupid that you couldn’t survive homework by yourself. You only needed help once in awhile so...Why?

        When you get home you pull short boy’s jersey out of the depths of your gym bag and pull it up to the top. You zipped it half way up just enough that nothing would spill out but so the jacket could still peak out at you. This way you were sure you wouldn’t forget it.

        “(Y/n),” Tan-tan calls, and you can feel a bit of dread dribble down inside of your chest. You look up to find them standing in the hallways, having just exited their room, glaring at you. You swallow.

        “I didn’t-”

        “You said you were free,” Tan-tan hisses, quickly cutting you off. The fight has started but you only had a sentence as your sword and your sibling with a browbeating brigade. “That's the only reason why I took you!”

        “I didn’t really skip” You start with little courage. “It wasn’t a mandatory practice!”

        “Every practice is mandatory.” Tan-tan clips, officially ending the argument, but not relieving any of the tension, and storms off. You roll your eyes, used to the conclusion.

        Tan-tan seemed to care for soccer even more than you did. To the point they forced you to go to all the practices that were set up during the off season. You loved the sport, but with no games because, once again, you currently weren’t in season, you didn’t find the point to going to each and every one. Only a handful of players showed up each time to run through small drills and mini games. You and the captain were the only common denominators, but even then once in awhile the captain wouldn’t show - and his life was soccer. Tan-tan had this odd idea that you’d fall apart without the sport.

        As if it was less of an outlet and more of a life line for you.

        You looked down to your gym bag.

        You...Weren’t quite sure exactly which one it was for you either.


End file.
